


In Sofia

by westernredcedar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family Reunion, M/M, Sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westernredcedar/pseuds/westernredcedar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was the first time in ten years that the Krum family had all managed to gather together for Christmas.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sofia

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for magnetic_pole's prompt "Viktor and sisters, odd one out." Maggie knows of my opinion that Viktor has long been spoiled by his large family of women, in particular his six sisters. I meant to write a little bit, and then found I had to make myself stop before this took off into major fic writing territory. Lalala.  
> I know very little about Bulgaria beyond my brief research, and certainly hope this does not offend anyone who knows more. :)

“I have never seen so much eyebrow hair in my life,” Charlie whispered in Viktor’s ear as he nudged him over to make room on the sofa, and passed him another shot of Mastica. His blue eyes raked mischievously over the room crowded full of Viktor’s family.

Long arm draped comfortably on the sofa behind Charlie, Viktor glanced over, momentary confusion fluttering up his spine. “You insult my sisters?” 

“Nah. I don’t mean it like that.” Charlie threw back his small glass of the foul liquor, and Viktor indulged in watching the constriction of his throat as he swallowed. A drip of the clear alcohol eased down Charlie’s chin, and Viktor was tempted to lick it away before he remembered where he was. He’d had a few himself. 

Charlie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and lowered his voice to a husky drawl. “I’m quite partial to heavy, menacing eyebrows of the Krum variety. You’d better keep me close or I’ll be fondling your sisters’ foreheads before the night is out.” He touched his thumb to Viktor’s brow. In the din of the family party, no one was paying them any mind.

Viktor snorted, and said, “No more Mastica for you, I think,” but he felt his neck flush a deep red as he swallowed his own shot with a grimace. 

It was the first time in ten years that the Krum family had all managed to gather together for Christmas. The Quidditch strike, now in its tenth agonizing week, had provided Viktor with an unusual and tedious amount of free time, and a precipitous drop in portkey fares had allowed Viktor’s long-absent and much-missed sister Emiliya to travel home from St. Petersburg for the first time since she had gone away to art school and her successful career. 

The rest of the clan, five sisters and their assorted husbands, children, aunts, uncles, and cousins, still lived together in the family’s sprawling apartment building in central Sofia, where they were all now gathered. Viktor’s oldest sister, Ivana, fifteen years his senior, had taken over the upper floor _and_ the role of family matriarch after their mother has passed three years before. Ivana, with her steel jaw and impressive bosom, controlled the chaos with her terrifying glare, ever present wand, and a voice that managed to silence even the noisy wallpaper. Only once, as she’d pulled him into her arms in unabashed joy when he and Charlie had stepped out of the floo, had Viktor caught a glimpse of the old, playful Ivana of his childhood, the girl who would apparate out of his bedroom to meet her Muggle beaus at the cinema, and bring him back bags of black licorice as reward for his silence.

Only his one younger sister, Vasilka, had met Charlie before and knew that he was more than Viktor’s “friend from Romania.” As an eleven-year-old, Vasilka had been selected as an international student at Candlewick Wizarding Academy in New York, and even now, living back at home, considered herself quite the cosmopolitan woman of mystery, which made Viktor grin. He had known enough truly worldly women to appreciate that his dear sister, no matter how well she spoke English, was just as naïve and homey as she ever had been. She came regularly to visit Viktor and Charlie in Romania, and relished being in on their ‘forbidden secret’ (her term); Charlie lived to harass her by holding Viktor’s hand or kissing him in front of her, which inevitably made her shriek in glee. 

Vasilka had lurked around them all afternoon, beaming, and was now off in the corner chattering excitedly with Emiliya. Viktor was fairly certain that Emiliya would be informed of the ‘forbidden secret’ after Vasilka had had a few more drinks, if she hadn’t been already. He didn’t mind. Emiliya was the actual worldly one in their family, himself aside, and she would likely be unsurprised, and then be gone back to St. Petersburg in three days time.

His three settled, older sisters, Boyka, Anka, and Todorka, each only a year apart in age, had been tracking Viktor like a gaggle of bossy geese, lurking around to pounce and force pampering on their baby brother at every turn. Charlie hadn’t let him hear the end of it. Not that Viktor desired them to stop.

There was a warmth in the flat that was more than just the crowd of bodies or the candlelight or the alcohol in his blood, and Viktor allowed himself the risk of laying his hand on the back of Charlie’s neck for just a moment and enjoying being there with him, his family complete.

“Should we go and help with supper?” Charlie asked after a moment, stretching his arms up and kicking his legs out into the room. 

Viktor could not help but give Charlie a disdainful glance as he let him hand fall away. “Why would we?”

Charlie elbowed him. “Because we are guests? Because my mother would somehow, from across the continent, know if I did not at least offer?” Then he leaned in, and Viktor could smell the heavy alcohol on his breath. “Because we can pilfer bites and I’m ravenous? I believe I saw something tasty-looking involving cabbage leaves.”

Viktor sat back on the sofa and crossed him arms. “No. I do no work here. I have…” he paused, searching for a way to explain himself, and then settled on, “…sisters.”

Charlie rolled his eyes and stood up. “You Neanderthal. What bloody year is this? You cook at…” his voice dropped to a whisper, “…at home.” Charlie grabbed Viktor’s hand and hauled him to his feet. “Time to join the nineteenth century, Krum. Men can cook, and wash dishes, and even, dare I say it, tidy up!”

Viktor yanked his hand free and crossed his arms again. “Not here. You watch. I shall try to help.”

“Alright.” Charlie flopped down in the corner of the sofa, his knees spread wide, head propped up on a cocky fist, and Viktor had to pause for moment to take in the image before he turned and strode towards the kitchen. 

He’d made it four steps before Anka stopped him, a hand to his chest. “My little lamb, sit down and rest. What do you need?” she crooned, cupping his face in her rough hands and kissing both of his cheeks. In contrast to her obsequious tone, her ample body was blocking the path to the kitchen like an Amazonian guard.

“I am going to help with the cooking,” he said, trying to keep from rolling his own eyes at the insanity of telling Anka he was doing any such thing.

She rewarded his faith by bursting into laughter and patting his cheek. “You are so very funny, my darling boy. You go sit now. What shall I bring you?”

Viktor shot a quick glance over his shoulder only to see Charlie shaking his head and grinning. Though he could not possibly understand her Bulgarian, there was no way that Charlie could be missing Anka’s rather vivid body language. 

“Charlie would like some Sarma,” he whispered in Anka’s ear, and then allowed her to push him, rather hard, back towards the sofa. 

“Anything for our little lamb,” she crooned again before she turned away, clapped her hands together, and entered the chaotic fray that was the kitchen. Viktor could hear her shout “Sarma!” as the door swung shut behind her.

Viktor flopped back down next to Charlie on the sofa. “You see?”

Charlie leaned back, eyes narrowed. “You didn’t try very hard.”

“Well,” Viktor said stretching his muscular arms over his head and then along the back of the sofa, “Anka is scary.”

“So when you come here, you are waited on hand and foot, forced to do nothing but sit around drinking and eating, and hustled away if you even attempt to help?” Charlie asked, his voice dripping with amusement.

“Yes.” Looking over to the corner, Viktor met Emiliya’s eyes and she winked and nodded towards Charlie. Vasilka, that little sneak. She never could keep a secret. Viktor turned towards Charlie, unable to hide the little jump of pride he felt that another sister knew, and wanting nothing more than to confirm Vasilka’s story by pressing his mouth against Charlie’s lips right there for Emiliya to see. Fuck. No more Mastica for him. “Is that a problem?”

Charlie leaned back and rested his head on Viktor’s arm. After a minute, he smiled and said, “No. Just makes me wonder why we aren’t here all the time,” and Viktor grinned and punched him in the shoulder and loved being home.


End file.
